


some old movie going back in time to you and me

by notthebigspoon



Series: Hurricane [9]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Georgia.”</p><p>	“Yeah.”</p><p>	“You want me to go to Georgia.”</p><p>	“Well, yeah. I live there.”</p><p>	“<i>Georgia</i>.”</p><p>	“Jesus, did I stutter or something? What the hell is wrong with you, Tim?”</p><p>	“It's just-”</p><p>	“Spit it out already!”</p><p>	“I don't like banjos.”</p><p>Title taken from You Save Me by Kenny Chesney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some old movie going back in time to you and me

“Georgia.”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to go to Georgia.”

“Well, yeah. I live there.”

“ _Georgia_.”

“Jesus, did I stutter or something?” Buster demands. When he had, only 30 seconds ago, asked Tim to come and stay with him for a while, he'd been in a good mood. Now, though, he's just ticked off. “What the hell is wrong with you, Tim?”

“It's just-”

“Spit it out already!”

“I don't like banjos.”

“... that's it. Forget I even asked. I'll go by myself.” Buster mutters, pushing the last of his clothes into his suitcase. It's the very last of his packing, all the bigger and heavier stuff is already out in the Uhaul.

He had hoped that he would be able to make a trip out of it, a cross country cruise with Tim in the seat next to him, scarfing down junk food and red bull. Probably insisting that they stop at every cheesy roadside attraction that they came across. And Buster would have grumbled but pulled over anyway, just to make Tim happy. They would have slept in crappy motels, Tim curling close to Buster in the bed and muttering that people had probably been making meth in the bathtub. They'd have eaten at roadside diners with greasy burgers, milkshakes and baskets of fries and Tim would have eaten twice as much pie as was good for him.

It would have been wonderful. Except Tim couldn't take anything seriously, even when he knew that it meant a lot to Buster.

They've done so much to repair their relationship, both of them struggling to show the other that it meant something, that they were in it for the long haul. Buster had earned forgiveness for the way he had done Tim, the way that they had broken up. Tim had done his best to show that he gave a damn, both about Buster and the twins. Tim had adjusted slowly, so slowly, to being around the kids, so uncertain about his presence and whether or not it was okay for him to be around.

At this point, Buster thought that they were at a point in their relationship where they could start meeting each others friends and families, try to merge their separate lives and making one together. He wishes that Tim could see that, could understand what Buster is trying to do. Or maybe he does understand and the jokes are his way of trying to bow out in a less than graceful manner. He can be awkward like that. Buster sighs and shakes his head.

He makes one last scan of the empty studio before motioning for Tim to follow him out. He locks the door and they take the elevator to the ground floor. Tim fidgets in the lobby while Buster turns the key to the apartment in to his landlady and hedges about coming back next season. He will if... well, if other arrangements aren't made. He says goodbye and takes the plate of brownies she pushes on him. Tim lights up when Buster returns, hands going straight for treats. Buster sighs and hands them over. Tim's sweet tooth is insatiable.

“So what now?” Tim asks, mumbling the question around a mouthful of brownie. Buster wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Now I take my stuff and I go back to Georgia.” Buster answers, tossing his suitcase in the back of the truck before shutting and locking it. He sits on the loading deck and crosses his arms over his chest.

Tim is staring at him. “That's it? You're just going to spend the whole off season in Deliverance?”

“That's my fucking home you're talking about, Tim! What the hell is wrong with you?” Buster snaps. He's starting to get incredibly fed up with Tim's shit.

“I just kind of thought we might spend it together is all.”

“I asked you to come with me, in case your goldfish brain has forgotten.” Buster answers wearily. This is great, he's going to be exhausted before he even hits the road.

“It's just, y'know, your family.”

“What about my family?”

“Do they know about us? Or that you're gay? They don't, do they? We'd have to hide it. I don't want to make problems, get you in trouble.”

“You're already going to get me in trouble. I told my mother I was bringing my boyfriend home to meet her and now she'll think I was just trying to get her to shut up.”

Tim looks completely poleaxed. Buster doesn't even find it a little funny. He starts to stand up but Tim stops him, planting his hands on Buster's shoulders and pinning him in place as he leans down and presses his lips against Buster's. Buster closes his eyes, smiles into it as he rests his hands on Tim's hips. Tim breaks the kiss first, straightening up and standing between Buster's legs. He's smiling down at Buster, like a little kid who's just been told he can have the whole candy store.

“You know we're in public, right?” Buster asks, rubbing his thumbs over the skin just above Tim's waistband.

“Pretty sure that I don't give a shit, Posey.” Tim answers, kissing Buster again as if to prove his point. “I'm already packed. All of my stuff is in the car. Help me throw it in the truck and let's go.”

“What about the car?”

“Fuck the car. I'll leave it at a storage center or something.”

“Only you would put a car in a fucking storage locker.”

Ultimately, that's exactly what Tim does, driving the car straight into a unit while Buster cringes and waits for him to crash it or dent something. Tim uses his freakish flexibility to contort himself out of the narrow opening he gets when he opens the car door. By the time he scoots out of the unit, shuts the door and padlocks it shut, there's still not a single scratch. He looks insufferably smug.

“Shut up and get in the truck.”

It's ridiculous, really, how much fun this is. He hasn't just relaxed and went for a drive since he can't remember when. This, with Tim in the seat next to him, is a crazy kind of perfect. He perches in his seat with his legs drawn up, alternately fiddling with his phone and stealing Buster's Mountain Dew and Twizzlers. He sings along with the radio and drums the beats of the songs on his legs. He looks supremely, completely happy. And it's all because he's going to spend the winter in Georgia with Buster. To be honest, the whole thing is a little humbling for Buster.

As he'd anticipated, Tim has an affinity for roadside attractions, the cheesier that better. He buys Buster a souvenir at each one, something that's usually some sort of strange that Buster can't imagine any normal person wanting to own. But he looks so happy presenting them to Buster that Buster can't bring himself to ask what on earth it's like inside of Tim's head. The beautiful mind of Tim Lincecum. It'd make a fantastic, acid trippy movie.

Tim actually likes the shitty motel rooms. He's like a kid, pretending that they're on the run and sneaking from room to truck and back with cat like ease and agility. It'd be impressive if not for the tendency to hum the Mission Impossible them song. One night, with his head between Buster's shoulder blades, and his hand running up and down one of Buster's thighs, he tells Buster that he's never been happier in his life, that he hasn't felt this normal in years. Buster isn't sure what part of any of this is normal but he's happy that he's making Tim happy.

They're both careless. They touch each other in public and steal kisses. Tim will hang onto Buster shamelessly, arms wrapping around Buster's neck or waist, all but snuggling him in front of God and everybody. Buster doesn't mind even a little bit, just enjoys the closeness and the fact that they've come so far after everything that he's happened. He'd never have thought, the night that he told Tim he just wanted his best friend not to hate him anymore, that they would have ended up like this.

When they reach the Georgia line, it's about the time that they would usually turn in for the night. Now that he's so close, he can practically smell the pie his mom is going to make him, he can hear his kids laughing. He tells Tim that they're going to go straight on through, straight to Leesburg, instead of their usual motel stop. Tim smiles like he understands and he probably does. He's more empathetic than most people, including Buster, usually give him credit for. He ends up asleep against the door, his head pillowed on his folded up hoodie, using Buster's coat for a blanket. He's smiling in his sleep. Buster wonders what he's dreaming about.

The darkness robs him of seeing most of the familiar landmarks that indicate he's finally home after way too long. But he sees a few and each one takes a little bit of California out of Buster, gives him a little more of himself back. When they rumble across the old iron covered bridge and turn onto the side road that leads to his house, he can't stop smiling. He pulls into the driveway and watches the headlights sweep across the house, illuminate the windows. For the next few months, until spring training, this is going to be home not just for him and the twins, but for Tim as well.

He cuts the engine and reaches over, gently shaking Tim awake and laughing at the way Tim grumbles and swats at him. He hands Tim his keys and tells him to unlock the door while Buster gets the bags. He does so, trudging along with his head drooping, swaying every few steps. By the time Buster catches up with him, he's already halfway up the stairs. Buster follows him up, quietly directs him to their bedroom.

The first thing Tim does is drag out his shaving kit and pad into the bathroom, the shower starting seconds later. Buster doesn't blame him for wanting to wash away the grimy feeling that a day on the road will give you. Buster digs through the truck in search of the bedding that he'd washed before he left San Francisco. He makes the bed, makes sure that that stupid silk pillow Tim loves so much is in place before grabbing towels and stepping into the bathroom.

It's warm and filled with steam. Tim is a water baby, loves his showers and will spend forty five minutes in there if left to his own devices. If Buster gets his way, they'll probably spend a whole lot longer in the shower. He sheds his clothes and pulls the shower door open, stepping in behind Tim.

Tim's eyes are closed, the water beating down on him and rinsing the suds away from his hair. Buster brushes his fingers over Tim's cheek, smiles when he opens his eyes. Tim tips his head up into the kiss, lips parting and hands running up Buster's chest. He laughs when Buster grips his ass and pulls their bodies flush together, reaching up to stroke Buster's neck, asking if Buster is afraid if he'll leave or something. Buster doesn't admit that sometimes he is.

Buster pushes Tim back against the tile and drops to his knees. He kisses Tim's stomach, bites and licks at the line of his hipbones. Tim nods, pushes his fingers through Buster's short hair before cupping the back of his neck. Buster starts it slow and teasing but Tim gets bossy like he always does when he's getting a blowjob. He pulls hair, uses his grip on Buster's neck to make him take more, panting Buster's name and coming without warning.

He pulls Buster to his feet, kisses him, lips pressed open mouthed against the corner of Buster's mouth, against Buster's cheek. He's panting, breath coming in short puffs against Buster's skin. His hands wraps around Buster's dick, moving with long and firm strokes. Buster closes his eyes, digs his fingers into Tim's skin as he mumbles obscenities. Tim has that sort of effect on him, robbing him of all intelligence and sanity. When he comes, Buster yanks Tim into a bruising kiss.

They actually show after that, lazy and running their hands over each other's bodies. They dry off, dress for bed, brush their teeth. Tim lights up when he sees the silk pillow and he dives under the blankets, burrowing up to the pillow and closing his eyes. Buster sighs and shakes his head, smiling and crawling into the bed. He presses up behind Tim, wraps an arm around his boyfriend's wrist and gets comfortable. He blushes when Tim cranes his neck and smiles, pressing a kiss to Buster's lips and whispering it back before dropping his head and getting comfortable.

Buster wakes up alone and smelling coffee. It makes him get up and brush his teeth, get dressed. He calls Tim's name as he makes his way through the house but he doesn't get an answer. He pours himself a mug of coffee in the kitchen, peers out the back window and smiles when he sees Tim sitting on the picnic table, feet tapping along the bench, phone pressed to his ear in one hand and coffee in the other.

The air is chilly and Buster shivers as he heads out to join Tim. He sits next to his boyfriend's feet, leans against Tim's legs and closes his eyes, laughing softly when Tim puts his coffee aside in favor of playing with Buster's hair. He tells whoever he's talking to that he'll call in a few days and he puts the phone down, leaning down to kiss the top of Buster's head.

“Pablo says hi and that he's coming to visit sometime in the next few weeks. I unpacked a lot of stuff while you were sleeping, too, you lazy bum.”

“Says the guy who slept while I drove all night.”

Tim continues like he hadn't heard Buster. “Also, we don't have any groceries. Just coffee and some canned stuff. Also a few jars of things that I don't recognize and therefore don't trust.”

“We'll go grocery shopping in a little while, get some breakfast while we're out.” Buster yawns, stretching. “I need to get stuff for the kids, too. We'll pick them up tomorrow. They're mostly ours for the next few months. Sure you can handle that?”

“I'll live.” Tim shrugs, kissing the top of Buster's head again. “I might as well be a piece of furniture or something to Lee but we both know I'm Addy's favorite.”

“True. Sad, but true.” Buster answers, he's made peace with the fact that his daughter loves his boyfriend more than she loves him. “Sure you're okay with spending your vacation here? I know it's probably not your first choice or even your second or your third.”

“Not even in the top five. But there's some things here that makes it all worth it.”

“Oh yeah? What's that?”

“You. Lee. Addy.”

He's smiling, so bright that it's blinding and Buster laughs, pulling him down for a slow kiss. “Love you, you gorgeous idiot.”

“Love you too, Georgia boy.”


End file.
